The Red and the Black
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: [NaruSasu AU] Uchiha Sasuke has just moved to small, secluded Konoha. Between remodeling, avoiding that idiot that owns ’The Nine Tails’ restaurant, and a psychotic brother stalking him, it should be an interesting year.
1. Prologue: The Uchiha Murders

_The Red and the Black_

By Kay

_Disclaimer_: I don't own _Naruto_, gave up trying a long time ago. There's a 12-step program for it, you know.

_Author's Notes_: Whew. So. Here's the prologue, after having planned this entire monster out and decided on a style to finally use. I'm not sure I like the prologue because it feels overly dramatic and OOC on Kakashi's part, but I chalk it up to the fact that he's young—he won't sound like the guy we know and love until later in the story. And trust me, he'll be there. All our favorites will be there. Though the majority of this is Sasuke's story, and to that extent Naruto's, I won't be leaving out the Konoha residents that captured our hearts.

This is ridiculously AU, because it's not even specifically set in our world, though it's absolutely similar to the modern earth around us. It's not confusing, I promise. But it also means that sometimes the police force or healers work differently (okay, so I didn't know how to write out the procedures, shut up) and some things are off, but they'll always be explained. That being said, there are several questions in this multichapter fic that won't be resolved until a long time after—but if you're dying to know something or are curious, I'll answer my reviews. :)

This is NARUSASU, along with several other pairings between Konoha residents that are for the majority heterosexual save for a few. Not everyone is gay. Just Naruto and Sasuke. And Sasuke doesn't even know it yet, nor will it be a huge deal in the story, because some things just... fall into place. This whole story is about falling into place, as a matter of fact, in every way possible. Deal.

But please enjoy. I'm so grateful to all my readers, you guys seriously make bread taste better and make the sun shine longer. You're all amazing. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you like it!

* * *

_Prologue: The Uchiha Murders_

* * *

In the span of one night, the entire Uchiha empire was narrowed to two.

If Hatake Kakashi wasn't seeing it already with his own eyes, hadn't already walked the unbearably silent hallways and checked the multitude of body bags being carefully sealed all over the grounds, he would have never believed it. Or maybe he would have, given a little time—the larger and more formidable the enemy, the harder they tended to fall. And the Uchiha families were anything but pushovers.

Kakashi shifted uneasily, concentrating on his methodical search through the debris left behind in the living room of the Uchiha estate. He'd been here once—a fancy dinner party, something no lowly police officer should attend, but he'd known an Uchiha once, had served with him as a partner, and that was enough to warrant a coolly placed invitation. He'd worn his first tuxedo. The walls had been covered with rich, elaborate paintings instead of thick trails of blood and pieces of human waste Kakashi didn't especially want to think about, and he'd eaten a chocolate-covered cricket that put him off any sort of dinner for the rest of the night. He couldn't even recognize the room right now, not still heavy with the stench of corpses.

Things change. Kakashi had painful reminders of that fact; one was traced down the length of his left eye, a scar he'd not bothered to hide for years. Apparently the Uchiha families had never thought of that possibility, though, because no one had been prepared.

_'No one ever is,'_ Kakashi mused absently, watching the paramedics check the pulse of another body, shake their heads, and bag it up. He tugged his scarf tighter around his mouth, not so much to escape the cold as to avoid inhaling the cloying scents around him. You could spend years in the force, here in the city, and never get used to it.

It was better than being outside, though; Kakashi knew from experience. Outside they were questioning and calming the survivors—the death toll seemed to be comprised solely of Uchiha family members, disregarding the many servants and guests who'd awoken to discover the grisly scenes outside their bedroom walls. It had been the middle of the night—still was, as a matter of fact. No warning. No alert from the security alarms, and Kakashi knew they were the newest, best of designs. Crickets couldn't even get in the perimeter without someone knowing.

Crickets didn't kill almost fifty Uchiha powerhouses, Kakashi reminded himself. At least, it was very unlikely.

The Uchiha family. It wasn't going to be easy, Kakashi thought, his heart sinking. There were too many enemies there. Too many grudges and powerful people who would have been happy to see the self-created empire fall in the city. It had been years, all of which were filled with hatred and loathing for the well-bred family, since the first of them had started taking seats in places of great control. Uchihas were everywhere in this city. They were politicians, they were corporate leaders, they called the shots in the underworld and respectable world alike—they spread like the plague, one family member raising another to a higher position, the interlocked families ascending to "thrones" of power like they had a divine right to it because of their uncanny business sense and ruthless demeanors.

Kakashi had never really liked the Uchiha families, but he hadn't wanted them dead. But there were plenty of other jealous or slighted people who did.

"This is going to suck," he said, and knotted his scarf again.

Really, though, it was their own fault. The Uchiha pride had been their ultimate downfall, Kakashi admitted pensively. He picked his way across the room, scanning intently for any scrap of evidence that wasn't reeking of human entrails. The Uchihas had gathered in one place like they were waiting for extermination—this ridiculously large estate, the grounds that spanned for blocks locked inside white iron fences and stone walls, left no way out. All the family members, down to their children and grandchildren, aunts and uncles, cousins, hell, even their family friends and associates…

They had stayed together because of pride, because they were elite and superior of blood, because they were _stupid_. This was what happened to people like that.

"How the mighty have fallen," Kakashi told one of the few paintings left unmolested. A nearby paramedic gave him a disgusted look. He smiled back, though the man probably didn't see it correctly through his scarf.

"Fallen hard, the sons of bitches," said Genma from the doorway. Kakashi turned, inclining his head in greeting to the other officer. Like him, Genma was bundled up for winter, a scowl worrying a toothpick between his teeth. "Luckily, the bastard made it easy for us."

"It's never that easy," Kakashi mildly pointed out, sauntering over to his friend's side. "You have to look underneath the underneath."

"Look underneath _this_ then," Genma said, rolling his eyes and tossing Kakashi a plastic, sealed bag with a single piece of paper in it. Kakashi studied the ornate golden touches at the edges of the sheet, the elegant black calligraphy and Uchiha stamp, a single paper fan, near the top corner.

"A confession?" he guessed, and began to read.

And then stopped.

"The fucker wiped them all out," Genma said, amazement warring with the horror under current in his voice. "His own kin. Jesus. I won't sleep for weeks."

Kakashi cursed. It was a rare event.

He read the paper a few more times, but it never went down easier. The lurch in his gut remained there, a swollen emotion of disturbance and anger hardening in his belly, even though it wasn't his problem, wasn't his family. But Kakashi knew things changed, and things went bad, and people became worse than what they were meant to, and he hadn't forgotten that feeling of betrayal. The sickening, final twist to the knife.

"He didn't want the companies," Kakashi said. "It was purely personal. He didn't even care that we knew."

"We've checked all the bodies and the surveillance cameras. He's not here. We can't figure out where the hell he got out, but he's not here. Not unless he knows something we don't, but they'll send out the dogs once the blood dries and the smell gets easier." Genma nervously gnawed on his toothpick, rubbing his gloves together. "They've called out the warrant already for his arrest. Even if he is somehow innocent or was set up…"

"Not likely," Kakashi shook his head. He carefully handed the letter back, his face hard. "It's hard to fake that kind of insanity. Where's the boy?"

"The little brother?"

"Is he still alive? The letter said he would be." Kakashi grimly scanned the windows and the flashing lights of the police bordering the grounds. "And if Itachi Uchiha is right, he'd be the only one."

_'I've left you a single mouse to play with, but he's been taught not to squeak. I've always loved my little brother, make no mistake, and he loves me in return—by the end, he wasn't even screaming. If you play for him, he will clap his hands. Sasuke is a good boy_.' The words were burned into Kakashi's brain, vicious imprints that left a trail of bitterness behind. It had been the softest, most human part of a letter otherwise filled with skewed reasonings and polite, chilling sentences that would later haunt Kakashi's nightmares sometimes at night, exchanging his usual demons for others.

Things changed. Things went bad. People became worse than they were meant to. Kakashi looked at Genma and felt a thousand years old, just waiting.

"Not out of love," Genma said. And then, "Yeah. He's alive."

Kakashi wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Expressionless, he nodded to Genma to lead the way—neither used words, and Genma understood and motioned for Kakashi to follow him to the front door exit.

Sasuke Uchiha was with Shizune, tucked far back into an ambulance set carefully apart from the others as if it would shield the world from its interior. Genma rapped on the door a few times and Shizune, an attractive dark-haired doctor they'd both worked with before, checked the window before opening the door, face unreadable.

"Kakashi. Genma."

"He's alive," Kakashi confirmed, already looking past her to the seat where Sasuke Uchiha was curled up, his face turned away from them and hidden by pools of black, inky hair. He looked small. Small and fragile and too young, too much like he was going to break if anyone touched him, and Kakashi felt something in him squeeze like an iron band despite his rock-hard countenance. "How old is he?" he asked abruptly, needing the distance but needing to know this even more first.

Shizune followed his gaze, her eyes darkening. "Too young," she answered just as abruptly. "Just a baby. I think he's seven, but he could just be small for his age."

"Not a baby," Genma muttered halfheartedly, but his heart was bleeding out of his eyes, too. He avoided looking at anyone in particular. "Can we come in? The vultures will be here soon, you know. Taking pictures."

Shizune silently assented, moving aside, and shut the door behind the men as the car and took seats opposite of Sasuke. Even now, they couldn't see his face—he pressed it to the ambulance wall, his shirt tucked over his neck to expose his back and the messy gash that was trailing rivulets of maroon from his left shoulder blade down his spine. Sharp blade, Kakashi noted dully, and watched as Shizune sat next to Sasuke and began to apply gauze to staunch the bleeding.

Her voice was calm and professional, if somewhat crisp, despite the tender movements of her hands. "He's a little bruised at his knees and elbows, but nothing's broken. His only major wound is composed of several small, efficient slices in the skin of his left shoulder blade, but not near the bone. He'll need stitches, but it's not dangerous. One of his wrists is sprained. As soon as I get this dressed enough to make the trip easier, we'll be taking him to the hospital with police escorts. I don't suppose you—"

"They'll want us here," Genma answered reluctantly. "There's still too much to pick through and I'm in charge of the investigation this time."

"Good for you," Shizune said, smiling politely. Genma didn't answer.

Kakashi studied the little boy quietly, eyes hooded. The kid was trembling imperceptibly, little violent shivers that would pause, fade out, and begin again every minute or so. His fingers were clenched in a knot on his lap like he was in pain, but he hadn't made a single sound. Hadn't even flinched at Shizune's cautious administrations.

"Has he said anything?" he asked.

Shizune's hands stilled, but her eyes still focused intently on the wound. "No. Not yet. He hasn't spoken a word since we found him, he just keeps shaking. He doesn't respond to half of what's said or done, it's a combination of—"

She stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, it's just… this wound…" She trailed off, voice trembling for a moment, and tightened her grip on the little boy's shoulder.

"What is it?" Kakashi asked sharply.

For a second, she didn't say anything. But then, quietly padding around the bleeding wound with a wad of gauze, she took up another piece of white padding in her hand and pressed it quickly, tightly, to the wound. The little boy whimpered. She pressed a kiss to his dark head and removed it, took a glance at the blood stain, and silently handed it over to Kakashi. Then she lovingly stroked Sasuke's hair, over and over, her fingers quivering.

Kakashi studied the clear marks that had imprinted onto the cloth, Genma stretching over his shoulder to study them, too.

Kakashi closed his eyes.

"That sick fuck," Genma said. "That… I…"

Kakashi put a hand out, just hovering above touching Genoa's shoulder. The man fell silent, his breathing raspy in the cold air. They stayed that way, only the sound of Shizune murmuring soft, nonsensical comfort noises into Sasuke's ear, carefully running her hand over his hair over and over again to no avail—the boy was completely lost in his own world, eyes blank and hidden, shuddering with little jerks that threatened to jar his entire body.

Kakashi ripped up the cloth and opened his eyes, letting the pieces flutter to the ground.

"Sasuke," he said then, and stopped. Met Shizune's eyes. She gave him a weak smile, pressed another kiss to the boy's head, and started to wrap the wound. He waited until she'd finished and carefully tucked Sasuke's shirt down again, pressing fingers to his shoulders as they spasmed once again, and then picked up a gray woolen blanket folded neatly under the seat.

"Hey kid," he said, sitting in front of Sasuke. The boy didn't turn his head from the wall, but from this point he could see the pale, softly rounded features of his face. The curve of his cheek was wet with tears. His chin didn't stop moving, softly mouthing words into the padded surface of the ambulance side.

"Below courage there's nothing," Kakashi said, deceptively gentle. He shook out the blanket and wrapped it around the boy's shoulders, barely touching them but still letting the weight of the action sink into the tiny body. "Things change. Things get bad. People become worse than what they were meant to be… but if you live another day, if you make yourself stronger, you can overcome that. You can surround yourself again with people you love. You can have second chances, provided you're not stupid enough to lose them."

Shizune made a protesting sound, but fell silent again. Kakashi removed his mild glare and concentrated solemnly on Sasuke's face again. His arms had stopped shivering.

"Someone told me that a long time ago. And sometimes I believe it, sometimes I don't. But you won't have the chance if you don't remember to breathe, Sasuke. You _always_ have to breathe."

Sasuke lifted his head.

"My brother," he said hoarsely, face crumbling. He had very dark eyes. Eyes Kakashi sometimes saw in the mirror. "My _brother_…"

"You'll do just fine," Kakashi promised, and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder again. Then, standing and letting it simply brush away from his neck, he turned to Genma and nodded. "Let's go. I want to search the house again."

Behind him, Sasuke started to weep. Kakashi didn't look back.

It would only be several years later that he saw Sasuke Uchiha in pieces again, stuck and unable to move forward—but at the private trial, he hadn't sobbed, hadn't moved his face from the stony mask he'd set it into—and later, the few photos the press had managed to capture had shown the same cold, almost lifeless work of art. But he was breathing. Barely. Kakashi was good at telling these things. The next time he saw Sasuke in tears wouldn't be for a long time yet, however, and that would be the moment of seeing whether he'd taken Kakashi's advice or not.

Itachi Uchiha was not on the Uchiha estate. They looked for over a year trying to find him in the city before giving up and trying to stay on their tiptoes, but nothing came up. The cities slowly relaxed. Kakashi quit his job. He bought an ugly van the shade of purple and set up to leave, not really sure of why or where he would go.

When Sasuke was twelve, he disappeared.

Kakashi wasn't terribly surprised. If anything, he'd expected it sooner.

* * *

_End of the Prologue_

_Next Chapter: Konoha, Flowerbeds, and Unpacking Your Life_


	2. Chapter 1: Konoha, Flowerbeds, and House

_The Red and the Black_

By Kay

Disclaimer: See the Prologue. See the Prologue laugh at you viciously.

Author's Notes: Well, that wasn't too painful. Now we come to present day and the moment you've all been waiting for—Sasuke makes his first appearance as the sullen, frigid icicle we all know and love. Though a little softer here, he'll get back to his normal pissy self soon enough, don't worry.

I think the house descriptions are too long, but I tried not to make them too painful. I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry, I hope it doesn't ruin the story. At least they're out of the way for the most part. A lot of this story's very sensory and deals with the house later, though, which is why I needed it. Still feel stupid about it, though.

Iruka is a tough, awesome man. I adore him. He'll be here a lot, too.

Am looking forward to any critism I can use or suggestions, though not on the plot (it's all figured out). I hope this chapter is okay! Thank you so much for reading and, if you do, reviewing! This is my first venture into this fandom, and I'm so happy it's with this piece because it's really near and dear to my heart… (hugs) Thank youuu.

* * *

_Chapter One: Konoha, Flowerbeds, and Unpacking Your Life_

* * *

There were flowerbeds. Sasuke Uchiha scowled heavily and made sure to stomp over them on his way up to the front door.

"This is _it_?" he demanded, eyeing the dilapidated farmhouse towering two stories above him. It was painted white. Sasuke hated houses painted white. He especially hated houses that weren't even painted white _well_, and this place with its chipped flakes and mud-caked façade was as far away from being in good condition as a house could possibly become. The front porch—three steps up, and he had to skip the first two that had caved in and jump awkwardly onto the platform—seemed to be sagging down into the ground, a big crater in the center of the wood.

Sasuke stomped on the planks. Something below them crunched.

"She's probably the oldest house in Konoha, but no one has lived here for years," the man behind him said, and stepped up next to Sasuke with a sheepish grin that Sasuke ignored. "I've been keeping some of the grounds up a bit, and making sure no one's camped out inside, but overall the property hasn't been touched for over a decade. No one comes to Konoha anymore, you know. It's hard to find tenants who would rent the place on top of fixing it up."

"I can see why," Sasuke muttered. Under the overhang of the porch, the sunlight wasn't so bright; he could blink away the scattered dots behind his eyelids. Up close, farmhouse seemed even more old and wrecked than he'd previously thought—the windows were covered with stapled-down blankets ruined by the weather, sometimes seeming to lack screens and even, for a few, glass panes. The weeds had eaten up the foundation, if there was indeed still a working one.

Sasuke was disgusted with it. It was a far cry from the small, cozy and clean apartment he'd left in the city. Worlds apart, even.

"I'll take it," he said.

The man, whose dark hair had been pulled up in a high ponytail with a dirty scrap of embroidered handkerchief, looked startled. Sasuke hadn't bothered to learn his last name—hadn't really gotten the chance, actually, considering the man had greeted him and said, "I'm Iruka," before starting into a one-sided conversation about how nice it was to see a new face, and that he was so pleased to see Sasuke, and wasn't it a beautiful day outside for this?

He was disgustingly nice—he'd met Sasuke on the road, all wide smiles and waves, and tried to offer to treat him to lunch at least twice before Sasuke blew him off. He'd expressed concern over the fact that Sasuke had pretty much walked from the nearest bus stop miles away, occasionally getting short rides from grain transporters who happened to pass, lugging his huge black suitcase behind him (it was the only thing Sasuke had bothered to bring, and gave Iruka another irritatingly worried expression). "That sort of thing's dangerous, even around here," Iruka had fretted, seemingly torn between scolding Sasuke and patting him down for injuries, "Although, I suppose, you're from such a large city in Sound…"

Iruka would have been swallowed alive in the city, not just because of his soft attitude and his tendency to chatter about the town, the children running around, or how the best pies were baked by Chouji Akimichi. (He hadn't shut up for a minute between meeting Sasuke out by the rusted mailbox by the empty road and the walk up the long, winding driveway up to the house.) The only distinctive feature about Iruka was the thick scar running across his nose, and the simple fact that he was utterly different from anyone Sasuke was used to talking to.

If the rest of Konoha was like this, Sasuke never planned to leave his house.

"I-if you're sure you…" Iruka trailed off uncertainly, scratching his chin. "Don't you want to see inside? It's not the prettiest place to live, I have to confess. You'd probably do much better in town, I know Neji has an open apartment above the bookstore—"

"I want to live here," Sasuke said firmly. The farther away from town, the better off he'd be; Iruka had mentioned a thirty minute walk from the farmhouse to the main center of Konoha, and all Sasuke could see around him was farmland and the tall stalks of corn swaying softly against the blue of the sky. The nearest place was another barn and small white house he'd passed on his way here, a good length away. It was quiet. It wasn't anything like the city. "You take cash, don't you? I can only pay my rent installments in cash."

"O-of course, but don't you—"

"I'll pay for the first three months now. I don't want to be bothered with remembering until after I've settled in and adjusted."

"You don't have to worry about it!" Iruka protested, holding up his hands as if trying to ward off Sasuke's intensity. He smiled nervously, dark eyes crinkling with his amusement and accompanying concern. "Really, you don't have to worry about it. You'll need everything right now to pay for… for, well, clothes and food. And just the cost of making this place livable! You don't need to worry at all, Mr. Chidori, just take your time, ah, settling in and getting adjusted and finding a job in town. I can recommend you to a few, if you'd like it, and then when that's all over you can start paying rent for—"

"I'll pay now," Sasuke interrupted flatly. He wrenched a beaten leather wallet out of his black jeans pocket, and opened it to find a wad of wrinkled bills. He carefully slipped a few out, pinching and rubbing the sheets to make sure nothing stuck together. "How much for three months?"

Iruka was staring at his wallet, wide-eyed. Sasuke felt the back of his neck burn in embarrassment and shifted uncomfortably at the scrutiny. He'd forgotten, for a moment, that it was different from in the city. In the city, no one blinked when a seemingly young man with grungy pants and a blue shirt that had seen better roads started pawing through several hundred dollar bills. Here, out in the middle of nowhere, with just dust and ugly farmhouses and a man who probably hadn't made that much money in a year, it just looked suspicious.

Suspicious was the last thing Sasuke needed.

"My uncle," he said. "He just passed away. He left me… almost everything, actually, so I decided to get away from the way I'd been living. Start fresh. It's what he would have wanted."

Sasuke had almost choked on the words—actor he was not, and he'd seen better lines on reality television—but Iruka ate them whole. "I'm s-so sorry," the man stammered, his face falling. "You… it must have been very hard on you, and he must have loved you very much to take such good care of your future. I'm sorry for staring. It was offensive and rude."

"Not really," Sasuke mumbled. His neck was hot again.

He could tell Iruka wanted to tell him to keep the money again, possibly even more than before, but was torn between the fact it might seem even more rude to do so. After a moment, sighing heavily, the man said, "For three months, rent would be… three hundred even."

It wouldn't be; Sasuke remembered, vaguely, the extremely old clipping from the backwater paper and it hadn't been _that_ cheap even for a screwed up farmhouse in the middle of dead-last country land. Iruka was being disgustingly nice again. But even with as much as he'd withdrawn from his secret bank account for the first time in a year, Sasuke wanted to plan for all emergencies, and so he just nodded and handed three single bills to Iruka, arm jutting out firmly like he was holding a weapon rather than crisp, new money.

"Thank you."

"Of course," murmured Iruka, absentmindedly pocketing the rent. He frowned a bit at Sasuke. "Would you like me to ask around for open jobs or did you plan to wait?"

"I won't be working. I'm fixing up the house first, then maybe I'll start searching," Sasuke lied.

Iruka glanced over his shoulder at the singular luggage piece still sitting forlornly on the beaten pathway leading up to the house—it was nearly unrecognizable after being dragged down the dirt road beside countless fields. "You don't have a car. I thought you would… but I suppose, really, you look so young—"

"I'm nineteen," Sasuke said, dismissively. He tried not to feel irritated. "I don't like cars. It's too much effort owning them." And far too easy to trace them, he added internally, shoving his hands in his pockets with an annoyed sigh. Walking that many miles had been the worst experience of his life; he was sweating in places he didn't even want to think about and his knees were killing him. The sooner Iruka left, the better, but experience had taught Sasuke that letting one person get "the scoop" would take care of a lot of future gossip. Hopefully it would be the last time he ever had to be even halfway social with any of the townspeople.

Not hopefully, he reminded himself. Definitely.

"You should call," Iruka said quietly, sympathy soft in his expression. Sasuke fought the swell of anger in his stomach at the sight of it, again, having seen it too many times. "If you want a ride to town, all you have to do is give me a ring—my number's pinned up in the kitchen on a billboard, you'll see it, it wouldn't be any trouble. Or if you'd like someone to bring you groceries or—"

"That won't be necessary," Sasuke interrupted, halting the nervous babble. He tried to smile, but it felt more like he was gritting his teeth. "Walking is good for me. I bought some canned food to last the night."

"Oh."

"I'm used to living alone," Sasuke added when Iruka still bit his lip, and immediately cringed upon realizing it was _exactly_ the wrong thing to say. The man hid his first stricken expression quickly, schooling it into a strained smile, and Sasuke wanted to strangle him but wasn't sure which action had made him angrier. "I _like_ living alone," he bit out viciously, somewhat mollified when Iruka stopped smiling.

"Of course," Iruka said hastily. The smile came back, though.

"I moved here specifically because I _wanted_ to be alone."

"Well, you won't be completely alone. Kiba and Hinata live just down from here, you know, you must have passed their place on the way down—and the town will be just happy to have you, we've got a great school that I've taught at for years, and everyone's very accepting," Iruka rushed to add, as if he didn't believe Sasuke. "Oh, and if you're looking for the general store, Asuma and Kurenai own the only one in Konoha, but it's really quite diverse. If you want anything, they can order it for you. They don't deliver, but really, just let me know if you need a quick stop there, or I can even arrange a regular person to drop things off, you won't have to make impromptu trips."

"I don't want—"

"Really, though, it might take a while to get the kitchen settled and cleared up. If you want a good hot meal, there's a restaurant called _The Nine Tails_, I know the owner personally and he'd be happy to have another customer," Iruka eagerly encouraged, apparently not put off by Sasuke's disgruntled face. "Naruto has always been—"

"It's _fine_," Sasuke insisted, stiffening further. "I'm fine, the house is fine, everything's _fine_, and I'm very tired so…"

"Of course!" He'd said the magic words; Iruka straightened with a nearly audible snap, flushing. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think of… but of course you'd be exhausted, all the way from the bus stop! Please, _please_ call next time if you need a ride."

"I will," Sasuke forced, strained. "Thank you. For everything."

"And if you need any help fixing up the house, we'd be happy to help."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sasuke said, and rushed to get his luggage so Iruka wouldn't see the tight grimace he was having trouble hiding. Iruka followed him down.

"Be careful if you go in the attic, I'm not sure how stable the floors are," the man added in warning, and there was the sound of rustling. "Oh, I almost forgot…"

Sasuke turned, tiredly staring at him. Iruka turned a little red again, grinning sheepishly with his hand rummaging through his coat pocket. "What else?"

"The… I can't find… the keys," Iruka said, and finally produced a small set of chipped gold keys set in an ordinary key ring. There was a keychain dangling from it of a plastic daffodil. Sasuke winced when he took them. "They should open up everything. The biggest is for the front door, and the smaller ones are for the basement, attic, and various storage rooms," Iruka continued, absentmindedly rubbing his neck as he craned it upwards to stare at the two-story façade of the house. He was squinting in the sun, much like Sasuke, who followed his gaze automatically. "It's fully furnished, but feel free to move anything around. None of the furniture's mine. It all belonged to the previous owner."

Sasuke nodded. "What happened to him?" he asked, reluctantly curious despite himself.

Iruka shrugged, and smiled a bit oddly. "He died… in a fire, I believe. Konoha has trouble with fires sometimes, it's so dry. But nothing's happened for a long time. Not anything. And this house," he indicated it with a nod, "has been through a lot through the years and is still standing, so as long as you don't drop any matches and gasoline…"

"Ah." Sasuke's fingers slowly curled around the keys. "Thank you again… Mr. Iruka."

"Just Iruka," the man insisted, and was so utterly warm about it that Sasuke felt his initial irritation smooth out a little and dissipate into a hesitant, shy sort of relief. This wasn't anything like the city, he thought, and imagined he could even conjure up a smile. He must have done something, anyway, because Iruka brightened like he'd won the lottery.

"Iruka," he agreed. "Then… just Sasuke."

"You should let me treat you to dinner during your first week, Sasuke," Iruka responded with a gentle smile.

"Maybe."

For a moment, Iruka seemed ready to press the matter, but he changed his mind. "My number's in the kitchen," he reminded Sasuke, and flashed him one more empathic glance before turning to walk down the road. "Remember that!"

Sasuke frowned.

"I will," he finally said, unsure if the man could hear his milder agreement when he was jogging down the driveway. From the wave of his tanned hand, Iruka had. For a minute, Sasuke watched him go, contemplating the strangeness of the last two days—his feet ached, his head hurt, the dust was making his throat itch, and he hadn't even stepped foot inside of his new residence…

_'Nothing like the city at all,'_ Sasuke thought, somewhat wistfully because no one would know except him, anyway. _'Konoha. What a strange place. Even in the other small towns, people weren't so…'_

He wouldn't have let his guard down if he hadn't been so tired. But really, it hadn't been so bad. Maybe things would be different here. Maybe Sasuke wouldn't have to be so careful. If everyone was like Iruka—

_'Ah. But that's stupid,'_ Sasuke reminded himself harshly. He turned to stare warily up at the length of his new abode. _'One person is enough to change your mind? Idiot. It's being weak like that, that's what will end this whole game. Don't forget, Uchiha.'_

His shadowed eyes darkened abruptly, masking any emotion automatically and efficiently. The tired lag to his steps vanished as he straightened, jaw clenched and shoulders tight with tension. _'That's right.'_

He marched back to the house, the wheels to his suitcase squeaking behind him.

_'Never forget.'_

* * *

The house was in worse shape than Sasuke had even planned for, and he spared a moment to briefly thank disgustingly nice men that charged less rent for their underprivileged (albeit fictionally) tenants.

He was exhausted, but necessity and a burning need to establish his surroundings made Sasuke give the first floor a quick search through for any possibly nasty surprises or future problems. There was only one door in the entire house and that was the one he'd used—it was one of the things that had attracted him to the ad in the first place, and apparently it hadn't lied. The kitchen was dark; he ignored it for now, despite feeling his stomach growl for food. The entrance hallway was dusty enough that his footprints stood out clearly, a sure sign that Iruka had told the truth about making sure no kids took up the place as a hideout or a spot to commit mischief. The coat hanger still had a musky, moth-chewed overcoat limply draped over its arms.

He passed through the living room quickly, scowling briefly at the floor-length windows in one wall—he'd have to buy curtains that weren't disturbingly lacy and half-rotten. There were too many gaping holes for people to see through, were there actually people within a few miles radius, and had the windows not been so smeared over from neglect that they rendered visibility impossible. All the sofas and furniture were covered in white sheets and old, molding blankets.

"Enjoy your time here while you have it," Sasuke muttered to the conspicuous mouse holes near the base of the wall. "Mousetraps are the first thing on my grocery list."

Definitely not like his apartment. His clean, vermin-free apartment.

He checked the bathroom and closet connected to the hallway briefly, grimacing at the amount of cobwebs, but grateful that at least the lights were working and the plumbing seemed sound. (Even if the water gushed in spurts out of the faucet. Iruka told him over the phone when they first spoke that it might take a while to get warmed up.) He also unlocked the basement door and peered down, irrationally wary of the swallowing blackness as the stairs went down, and then locked it, promising himself roughly to check it out tomorrow morning.

The only real surprise had been what Sasuke decided to call the Music Room, however, by the end of his first level tour. Wide and empty with a carpeted floor still soft and deep enough for his shoes to sink into, the sunlight still drifted lazily through the smudged windows and over the piano left abandoned in the center. He nudged the sheet draped over it a little, carefully pressing a single, pale finger to the yellowing ivory keys.

The sound was entirely too loud in the silence. It would need to be tuned. Except, Sasuke thought tiredly as he pulled the sheet back over the keys, there would still be nobody to use it. He'd only known one person to ever play, and that had been…

_'You played me Beethoven. Fur Elise. You said it was my song, and that was the reason you played it so often. That you could always hear me, and always had.'_

Sasuke's fist hit the piano keys through the sheet with a clang. "God _damn_ it!"

It took him several minutes of trying to control his heavy breathing before the deep, ugly ache in his chest eased a little bit. He scowled at the piano, rubbing his ribs like it would make the slicing pain go away. He hadn't known anything about a piano being here. Hadn't even considered it.

The day was getting worse and worse. The piano might have to go, but until he figured out how, Sasuke locked the door to the Music Room.

He went to the trouble of cursing and struggling to drag his suitcase all the way up the main staircase, which groaned so much that Sasuke was almost scared it would cave in like the outside steps. It didn't, however; the second floor hallway was decorated in hideous green, yellow and red floral designs, and Sasuke viciously booted it. "You're gone, too," he promised it darkly.

There were three bedrooms—one lacy and disgusting (Sasuke hated women, an even further hated their idea of decoration), another still painted the reds and blues of a little boy, with a tiny child-size bed and shelves filled with curious knick-knacks that almost made Sasuke stay for longer than he'd planned. He was swaying by now, though, and he rubbed his eyes before leaving. It had been a long two days of getting to Konoha by bus and sympathetic hitchhikers.

There was a green sitting room with chairs and wide windows, and empty shelves that only had a few books left to grace their surfaces. There was a desk for writing which Sasuke pressed his hand against, checking to see if it was solid before nodding in satisfaction. Afterwards, he checked the two linen closets, the second bathroom that had plumbing even worse than the first (but actually had a showerhead this time, to Sasuke's gratitude), and finally the room at the end of the hall.

The third bedroom became Sasuke's bedroom. Not because he really liked it any better, but because it seemed less lived-in, less caught in the past. Whoever stayed here had stripped the walls down to their ugly wallpaper, and the bed was a simple queen with brass-knobbed framework and plain white sheets. There weren't any blankets, but Sasuke didn't need any; it was still summer, still too hot and stuffy in the house. The first thing he did was rip off the plastic covering the single window and push the first layer up, grunting with effort, to let the air stream in with the sun.

"There," he said, and coughed until the dust cleared. There were dead bugs littering the inside between the glass and the screen, but he could clean up later. At least now Sasuke could breathe.

He thought about digging out a pair of sleeping pants, but his fingers felt heavy and the heat was making his head spin. Sasuke shook it briefly, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his forehead. Two days. Two very long days. He would have a lot of work to do tomorrow, and the day after, and after that…

"I hate this place," Sasuke mumbled, regardless if it were true, pushing off his ratty shoes. He stumbled for the bed, landing on it and making the springs squeak under the mattress. It didn't seem too dirty—just old, and musty, and it smelt like faded peppermint and something Sasuke couldn't trace. He peeled off his jeans and sweat-dampened t-shirt and dumped them on the floor, inhaling deeply again, and burrowed under the light sheets. They felt cool on his skin, like new if it weren't for the scent.

_'I won't need anything for myself,'_ Sasuke thought drowsily, pushing his face into the pillows. _'This will do. Everything will do… because in just another year, it won't matter, because…'_

He slept the dead-sleep of bone-melting exhaustion, the summer breeze from the window bringing in the imprints of corn and lemongrass. He didn't wake up for nightmares, but it wouldn't have surprised him if he had.

Sasuke Uchiha knew all about nightmares. He was convinced his life was one of them.

* * *

_End of Chapter One_

_Next Chapter: Chapter Two—The Nine Tails, Malnourishment, and First Impressions Suck_


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